Page 6 of Ride Me

“Fuck off Callum.” I turn to Priya and take her hand in mine, ignoring Callum completely. “Let me be the man in your life this weekend. I’ve got you, I promise. We’ll make sure it’s believable. The truth won’t ever leave this room.”

CHAPTER 5

PRIYA

“Hi,Preye-yaaw—did I say that right? You’ve got one of those names I’ve never actually heard out loud before.” The girl with the pink glittery phone case checks me in for my appointment. But she looks more like she should be in class right now and I feel incredibly old.

“Actually, it’s… Priya.”

“So Ididsay it right! Knew it. I wish I had thought of that name back when my daughter was born. It’s so classy. What did you name your kids?” She rests her chin on her hand and leans across the counter.

I swallow back my surprise at her question. “Oh, I don’t have any kids. Not yet, maybe someday. There’s still time… I think.” My biological clock thuds in my chest and the pounding brings with it a ridiculous thought of Bowen. I brush it away as soon as it arrives. This plan of ours is really getting to me. I turn the conversation back to her. “How old is your daughter?”

“Girl, I’ve got three. They’re at home with Granny right now. It’s my boyfriend’s MeMaw. She’s getting up there, but she’s still okay to help watch them. She’s gonna be forty-six this year so she’s taking on all the old lady hobbies like reading and gardening.”

My eyes widen and I try to keep them from making a full jump out of their sockets. “Wow, yeah, Granny and I would probably get along really well. I’ll just wait over here. Thanks.”

The roar of a blow dryer jolts me back to the present, slicing through the tangle of thoughts in my head as I sink into a turquoise vinyl chair by the front door. I lean back, letting the atmosphere settle over me.

For the first time in a long time, I feel an ache to call my sister. Zara would be shocked by this place, but she’d somehow know exactly how to fit in. It isn’t a talent I’ve ever had. But I came here for a change, something drastic, and Mane Event Hair Salon is a world away from the organic hair clinic I used to frequent.

With its country music blaring, this place is all cowboy chic with not a hint of shabby. Every light fixture is a full-on chandelier, and the white marble floors gleam with so much wax I can see my own reflection. Truth is, I look haggard and between the lights and the mirrors, there’s no hiding it.

The past year has worn me down in every way. I carried the weight of my breakup with Gunner alone. Loving him was never easy. Leaving him under the relentless glare of the media was even harder. And then there was my family and their expectations pressing down on me. They demanded smiles and poise even when my world was crumbling around me.

But I chose peace over privilege and I’m proud of that. I’ve fought for every smile since. Allowing Bowen in on the details of my last year lifted a weight I hadn’t realized I was still carrying. And for the first time in a long time, I feel something close to relief. I won’t let Gunner take that progress away from me by showing up now that it’s convenient for him.

Then my mind drifts to Bowen.

From the moment we met, the spark between us has only intensified, growing into something I can’t quite name but feelwith every glance, every touch. I knew he was handsome from the start—that much was obvious. But, what I didn’t expect was the depth beneath the rugged charm, the quiet steadiness that lingers in his every word and action.

And then there was the way he stood beside me after my confession, unwavering, as if he had always been meant to be there. That moment did something to me. Trust has never come easily—I’ve spent too much time building walls, too much time learning the hard way that not everyone stays. But Bowen? He read me like a book, saw past my carefully crafted pages, and instead of turning away, he insisted on helping me write the next chapter.

There’s something about that—about him—that warms me to my core. Not just in a fleeting, heart-racing kind of way, but in a deep, bone-settling way that feels like a promise.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m not so afraid to believe in it.

The girl behind the counter reappears. “Alright, hon, come on back. I’m gonna put you with one of our best stylists, Brynn Rose. She’ll know exactly what to do with all that hair. You’re justbeggingto get some country in there, ain’t you?” She runs her eyes up and down my body.

Before I can process that statement, she smooths a hand over the back of my hair. I can’t decide whether to be flattered or mildly offended.

She continues, “You know how it is—the higher the hair, the...” She trails off, blinking at me expectantly.

I stare back at her, tilting my head with a smile and hoping the moment passes. It doesn’t. This chick is waiting for a response. Only… I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to say. It’s clear we aren’t taking another step until I speak, so I take a wild-ass guess.

“Right, the higher the hair… the more hairspray needed,” I say with conviction then hold my breath like I’m waiting to find out if I’ve passed the test.

She hesitates for a moment and then throws her head back, roaring with laughter. “Girl, you aretoosweet. No—the higher the hair, the closer to heaven!” She shakes her head, still chuckling as we round the corner to a room full of stylists, chairs, and products. “I forgot, it’s your first time at Mane Event Hair Salon. We are Sagebrush Creek’spremierbeauty destination, sugar. So don’t you worry about a thing. Brynn’s gonna takerealgood care of you.”

I thank her as she drops me off, still in awe of what just happened. Brynn Rose appears from behind a black curtain. She looks like she walked straight off the pages of a southern charm magazine. She’s Carrie Underwood with curves… only, you know, likable.

Brynn introduces herself and I get a close-up of her flawless, radiant skin. She’s a walking glamour shot and I’m ready to buy whatever she’s selling. All I can think is,to hell with organic shampoo.If a little chemistry can make me look like her, take my money.

I have at least ten different hairstyle ideas screenshotted on my phone, but the second she touches my hair, I abandon them all. There’s an effortless authority about her that makes me trust her completely. When she asks what we’re doing today, I don’t hesitate to saywhatever you want.

Brynn swivels the chair away from the mirror and gets to work without hesitation. She moves with the effortless confidence of someone who has mastered their craft, her hands a blur of precision and purpose. I settle back, certain that something extraordinary is happening.

Long strands of my hair tumble to the floor, and with a single sweep of her hand, Brynn dusts them away as if sheddingthe past. The rhythmic brush of the bristles against my scalp, the mist of something warm and sweet—vanilla and something else, something decadent—coaxes me into the moment. I exhale, letting her work her magic.

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